Chapter Text
Tommy's hands are shaking as he exits the stage.
He just played The Syndicate, his first gig while playing with his best friends, his first ever gig if he didn’t count the disaster that was the Year 9 talent show which Tommy certainly did not. He had dreamed of this for so long, he had dreamed of crowds and lights and stages and the thrill of it all, hell, he even dreamed about failing, about getting booed but still smiling and keeping his head high amongst his friends despite the insults thrown at them. He had dreamed of so many things, expected so many things.
“So…” Tubbo says, his guitar across his back as he comes off stage, a very clear frown on his face. He looks between Tommy and Ranboo. “I really can’t tell if we bombed or not.”
“Yeah,” Ranboo agrees, nodding. His bass is in front of him and he keeps plucking the strings as if that would somehow make whatever happened be resolved. Tommy is just slightly jealous of how not sweaty they are after that show. “I mean, is it really bombing when the only famous person in the audience was also the only one who clapped?”
Tommy hadn’t expected that.
He hadn’t expected soul crushing silence filled only by that Wilbur asshole to clap, he had expected a bigger response because they did well, they absolutely killed it on stage and all they got was one dude clapping followed by awkward stunned clapping from the rest of the club. He could deal with big reactions even if they were negative, he could deal with people throwing shit on stage and cussing him out, he could deal with insults and bullying, but a silent audience? How the fuck was he meant to bounce back from that, how was he meant to prove to his parents that he could do this for a living?!
“Not the only famous person.” He says, slightly out of it. Tommy jumps slightly when someone takes his hand, but he relaxes when he sees it’s just Tubbo, smiling up at him. “Phil was there too, he didn’t clap.”
All color drains from Ranboos face and his eyes go wide. “No he wasn’t.” He says in a voice that sounds less like he's arguing with Tommy and more like he's begging. He groans, putting his head in his hands. “Great, so I lost my dignity and my job in one night. Awesome.”
“Oh my god, stop being so dramatic.” Tommy says, rolling his eyes. “He’s not going to fire you for sucking at bass.”
“Well, he might.” Tubbo shrugs, arguing in a voice that let’s both of them know he's not serious. He opens his arms wide as if expecting a hot. “Welcome to the unemployment club!”
Ranboo rolls his eyes and puts a hand on Tubbos head to push him away. They both giggle and Tubbo leans on his side.
“Glad to see you’ve recovered from your anxiety, Tubbo.” Tommy says, rolling his eyes once more. “I don’t know if you noticed, bruv, but we totally bombed.”
Tubbo shrugs, looking completely unbothered unlike he was a few moments before they went on stage. “I mean, I was only afraid that we were going to choke or that I was going to be flat but...I mean, you guys heard us, right?! It was just like rehearsals, I mean-it was better than rehearsals! We were fucking awesome, even Wilbur fucking Soot thought so!” He says, sounding almost giddy. The boy looks to his friends and Tommy has a hard time not smiling along with his excitement. “If those fuckers can’t tell, well-sucks to be them, I guess, because we absolutely killed it up there and no one can stop us from doing it again!”
“Tubbo Underscore!”
Tubbo’s face drains of any color, Tommy groans audibly and Ranboo says something that sounds awfully like a swear under his breath. Well, that didn’t last long at all.
A well dressed man stalks towards them, his proper and well put together clothes already making him look terribly out of place, something that is only intensified by just how red in the face and annoyed he looks. Tubbo briefly looks all around himself, trying to find a place to hide before sighing and giving up, realizing it’s far too late. He turns to face the man, an awkward and forced smile on his face.
“Hey, dad…”
Tommy’s guilty conscience starts to take over, and as Tubbo’s father nears - looked more hot headed than he usually remembers - he starts to slink back. Ranboo is quick to shoot out his hand and tug him back harshly.
Tubbo’s inwardly wincing. He knows his dad is pissed, and he’s just been caught red-handed. Maybe he won’t be that mad?
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
So much for that, Tubbo thinks bitterly, staring up at his father as he practically spits in his face.
Tommy’s still trying to wriggle his way out of Ranboo’s grip, but the bastard’s got a firm hand on the hem of his shirt. “It’s our fault,” Ranboo hisses, trying to appeal to Tommy’s better senses.
It doesn’t work. “You don’t understand,” he spits back. “He hates me.”
The man in question has yet to take his eyes off of Tubbo. He’s in his face, although the man is a good bit taller than him. “Well? I’m waiting.”
Tubbo’s a bit pinned to his spot. He’s used to his dad yelling at him, but it doesn’t make it any easier. He lowers his head in defeat, but his father doesn’t let it go.
“Imagine how I felt when I got the message from your mother found you missing. You almost gave her a heart attack.”
“...Sorry,” Tubbo mumbled, but it was barely audible.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself? You snuck out, scared the life out of your mother, and that’s it? Was it worth it?”
Tubbo was silent, keeping his head down. People were staring. Tommy looked conflicted. “It’s,” Tommy started, clearing his throat. “It’s my fault, sir, I--”
“Shut up,” his father snapped, holding up his hand. Tubbo looked up, gawking at him.
“Dad, you can’t talk to him like that…”
He widened his eyes expectantly. “I think I can when he snuck my son out into a nightclub!” He pinched his nose. “Honestly, I thought you’d given up on this dumb hobby of yours.”
The words dug under his skin, and Tubbo felt the heat rise to his cheeks. His throat was dry, but he was pinned, at the mercy of the onlookers and his yelling father.
--
Wilbur hadn’t been expecting that.
Phil was a little awestruck too, so much that it took him a second to start clapping. “Wow,” he exhaled, leaning back in his seat.
“They had a shit start, but man… Phil, where’d you say you found them again?”
“The one with the mullet works for me.”
Wilbur hummed, “Oh, really?”
“Mhm,” he hummed back. “I mentioned off-hand that a band pulled out, and he said he had a fill-in.” He finished the last of his glass with a grimace. “Had no idea they were that good, though.” He paused. “I also didn’t know he hung out with that blond kid.”
“Yeah?” he prompted, eager to hear more.
“He’s a client, too. Plays a pretty good drummer, but I’m pretty sure his mom just signed him up to get him out of the house.” Wilbur, lost in thought, mulled it over. He was still playing over the performance in his head. “What’s wrong, Wilbur?”
“Hm?”
“It’s not like you to take interest in anything.”
Wilbur scoffed, hiding a small grin behind his glass. “Okay, damn, Phil.”
“Didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. “But. You know.”
“I know.”
Wilbur wanted nothing to do with this shit hole of a town and all of its ignorant people. He was sure the town was filled with nobody interesting, and that’s not his celebrity talking. No, he’s always felt this way, even before he left.
He knew, since he was a kid, that he was going to get out of this town and never look back.
Yet, here he was.
“This next group’s pretty good,” Phil said, raising his hand to signal for another drink. The bartender nodded, busy in her conversation, but he waved back. “The drummer, Dream, is good, and their singer-- Where are you going, Wil?”
“Sorry,” he apologized, pushing his chair in. “Sorry, I just…”
“What?”
He sheepishly grinned. “I’m gonna find those kids. I just wanted to talk to them.”
Phil smiled as the bartender made his way over and dropped a glass in front of him. He accepted it with eager hands and waved at Wilbur. “Okay, go work your celebrity charm. Watch out for Tommy, though.”
“Why?”
He grimaced. “You’ll see.” He sipped his glass. “Have fun!”
The club was a lot fuller than he remembered it.
Wilbur was young and stupid once, maybe not that long ago. It’s been about eight years, give or take, since he’s been here. It’s stayed the same in most ways, but he’s never seen it this packed.
He pushes by people, wading his way through the club in search for the kids from earlier. He thought they would be easy to spot from the super tall one and the loud one, but the club is so packed it’s hard to see.
A hand grabs his elbow, and he spins around in alarm, expecting a fan. It’s only Niki. “Hey, Wil!”
“Hey,” he replies, settling as soon as he notices it’s her. “Slacking on the job?”
She grinned sheepishly. She was holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands. “Took a break real quick.” She was looking around, too. “And what about you?” She gasped. “You’re not leaving already?”
“No, I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you,” he cooed. “I was looking for one of the bands.”
“You mean the one with the kids?”
Wilbur stilled. “How’d you know?”
She laughed. “You’re so predictable, Wil.” She jabbed her thumb behind her. “They’re back there, I think.”
“Thanks,” he said, starting to walk past, but she grabbed his wrist gently. “Yeah?”
“I wouldn’t go right now. I think one of them’s in trouble with his dad.”
“What do you mean?”
She frowned, biting her lip. “You can’t hear the yelling from here?”
Concerned, Wilbur squeezed her arm before passing by her. She squinted her eyes at him as he disappeared in the crowd. “Oh, Wil,” she sighed to herself before picking up her own search again.
Wilbur made it a few more feet before he spotted the split dyed hair of the taller one. Ranboo, was it?
“You have more important things to do, and instead you’re out here disappointing your mother and I more and more every damn day! I mean, honestly, Tubbo, what do you expect to get out of this? It’s a waste of your time.”
The lead singer had his head down, shaggy brown hair covering his eyes. At his side, the boy with the mullet was chewing on his nails nervously. It was obvious he wanted to yell and butt in, but he stayed clear to the side with the blond boy tucked away. He was gritting his teeth together and clenching his fist so hard that Ranboo had to keep him back.
“Come on,” the father continued, reaching out to grab Tubbo’s arm. “You’re going home. Now.”
Wilbur knew he shouldn’t intervene.
It’s not his place.
He doesn’t even know the kid.
He should turn back around before he makes a big deal about it.
“Hey, Tubbo, was it?”
God dammit.
The boy whipped his head up, breaking out of his father’s grasp. Wilbur made his way over to stand in between them.
He moved without even thinking. “You guys did so well!” he complimented, hands gesturing when he spoke. “I thought this place was void of any real talent, but you… you three did so well.”
“Wilbur… Wilbur Soot…” Ranboo breathed out in one long, dreamy exhale.
Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. “Wilbur Soot.” It was not as affectionate.
Tubbo stared at him, awestruck.
“You have some real potential, kid,” Wilbur said, flashing his white teeth. “It’d be a real shame…” As he turned to leave, he locked eyes with his father. “If anything were to interfere with a natural born talent like that.”
He smiled as the man gulped, and he turned away once again. “You boys keep it up, yeah?” He gave one last wave before disappearing back into the crowd.
Tubbo’s father’s jaw was dropped.
“Did that… really just happen?” Tubbo exhaled.
“Have you ever heard of shared hallucinations before?” Ranboo added.
They could chalk up the weird events of tonight to some type of hallucination - all three of them are hopped up on adrenaline still.
“I could’ve told you the same thing,” Tommy snarled, jealousy plain as day. “Whatever. It doesn’t mean anything.” Everyone chose to ignore the rosy pink blush dusting his cheeks.
Tubbo was in shock - Wilbur’s words seeping through his skin.
“It’s still a waste of time.” The words leave his father’s mouth, unsure. “We should be getting home.”
“Actually,” Tommy interrupted, venom dripping from his words. “We have an afterparty to go to. Don’t we, Ranboo?”
“What? Oh, Tommy--”
Tommy grabbed ahold of one side of Tubbo, and Ranboo grabbed his other hand. “It was nice to see you Mr. Underscore!” Ranboo called, even as Tommy dragged the two of them out of sight.